On the Nature of What is Right
by Travis Church
Summary: AU: The humans win and the Dragons d'Alacala lose. They must pay the price in their eternal service to mankind. Which begs the question, if the crime is the law are there victims? Written for the HTTYD Big Bang
1. Act 1

**How to Train Your Dragon and all characters associated do not belong to Travis Church.**

**This is written for the HTTYD Big Bang.**

**Act 1**

Was it so cruel?

It is now year nineteen-twenty nine of our lord and about a few months after the Great War. We had fought as brothers against the Green Death. Although most people say it was a secret organization that helped create and form the Dragons D'Alcala, I know that it was a real person. What kind of person could orchestrate the raiding, massacre, and invasion of our home nation without feeling some remorse? Some guilt? Some sort of sadness? An evil one: one with the savagery of Genghis Khan, the sick mind of Caligula, the thirst for blood of Dracula, and the wretched soul of Lucifer.

With some stroke of luck, our forces found the Green Death, captured her at the volcano base she used as central command for the Dragons D'Alcala and "ended operations immediately." However I know that they found the Green Death and executed her right there. They occupied the base, took everything in it, captured everyone, and broadcast on open airways that the Dragons D'Alcala would not survive without their leader. In an hour, they surrendered. It was a day worth living, for everyone.

After the Green Death's excecution, my nation's leaders gathered to end the Dragons D'Alcala. They agreed that all forcibly taken territory was to be returned or force would be used against them and that all members of the Dragons D'Alcala would swear to peace and put down all arms against my home. But they also added four specific provisions to the treaty:

_Provision One: That all territory acquired outside the national borders be forfeited as part of an exchange that no member of the violent and rebel organization, "Dragons D'Alcala," be forced to pay any criminal fine or serve any criminal sentence._

_Provision Two: That all members of the violent and rebel organization, "Dragons D'Alcala," serve as laborers, servants, or direct employees of the Government or to repay their crimes and injustices preformed. The duration of this servitude shall be in direct correlation to the duration of their servitude as a member of the "Dragons D'Alcala," the missions, tasks, and battles said member has preformed. The duration of servitude shall be then equated to a specific monetary amount and each hour of service shall equate to 0.4875 percent of the national minimum wage._

_Provision Three: Such members of the "Dragons D'Alcala" are denied the privilege of citizenship and the rights and privileges associated with citizenship until their servitude has been repaid in twice the amount that they are indebted._

_Provision Four: Failure to accept the treaty or abandonment of servitude shall place the member of the "Dragon D'Alcala" into the hands of the War Crimes Prosecution Board and undergo a criminal tribunal for all war crimes._

There's nothing wrong with that? Right?

Our little village, Berk, sent the second largest amount of troops per family to fight in the Great War and we were the first to send females into the military. We sent the most family members and we lost the most families. Under the Government's new treaty, we would receive a former Dragon D'Alcala for every three and a quarter people in our town; which was about a Dragon D'Alcala for every solider we sent.

It seemed fair at the time.

* * *

The groaning of a blue bus lurched up the road and gave itself a few more heaves until it gave way next to a general store. The cool morning air tried to extinguish the heated metal of the bus but made little progress. Pale light passed through the dirty glass doors and, with reluctance, these doors opened with as much noise as possible.

A young man left the mobile tuna can with a duffel bag in one hand and a suitcase in the other. He walked over to an aged wooden bench that lay next to the general store door and gave his belongings the seat, refusing to sit down any longer.

He ran a pale hand through his mop of brown hair, grimacing as he felt the oils of last night sticking on him. He rubbed his hand on a leg of the khaki pants and looked deeply at the strands that made the fabric. Layering atop one, sliding underneath the other, it deeply fascinated him and gave him something to think about. The origins, the people, the delivery, the salespeople; it all made him think about something other than the memories of war.

A sputtering jettisoned him out of the "Origins of Pants" and brought his attention to the bus that was slowly climbing down the hill and back to the city.

The scent of saltwater drifted into his nostrils calling him northward. It was like the call of a long lost friend, the song of a childhood hymn, or the playground of an ancient park. It brought back so many memories, untainted by the present and ignorant of the future.

The man waited and, after a short debate about leaving his things on the bench unguarded, decided to go inside the general store for a substitute breakfast.

He pushed past the wooden door and heard the jingling of a bell above him. The store was quaint and lined with shelves of essential goods such as soap, cornmeal, and lamp oil. He walked briskly looking for something edible and settled for a pack of bread and dried pork. He approached for the counter and placed his food on the table waiting for someone to pay. He would never steal, he never did during the war, and there was no reason to break that record.

An old man walked over vigorously to the man and eyed the two things that sat on the table. He said some numbers aloud and rubbed his chin as he thought about the numbers. The man focused on finding some coins in his pocket and when he found a set of coins he heard, "fifteen cents" and gave the elder shopkeeper a dime and nickel and then took the two items and attempted to dash out. But he was stopped as the aged man called out to say he left something and he approached him and was handed a small bottle of milk. He tried to say that he didn't pay for it but the shopkeeper told him that it was the least he could do to thank him for his service.

The young man smiled and left with all three things in his arms and was relieved to see that his luggage was still sitting on the bench. So he ate in silence feeling better that he was home victorious and alive. It was a great day.

* * *

It was an hour of waiting but the man was not anxious. The cool air, the thin beams of light trickling down, the bird calls, and the birds getting chased away by larger non-singing birds; it was all very soothing.

A red truck, worn by time and dirt, pulled up to the general store and the young man grabbed his things and piled it into the back of the truck. He then pulled the passenger door and took a seat unenthusiastically.

"How you been?" A gruff voice navigated out of the driver's wild red beard.

"Okay," the young man shrugged, "It feels good to be home."

"I'm glad you're back Hiccup."

"Me too Dad," he said looking aimlessly out the window. Although it was not his real name, it was a nickname for all the hiccups he had just before a gas bomb exploded nearby. Out of the seven gas bombings that he was part of he had seven cases of hiccups before. Everyone thanked God for his gift of hiccupping and word got around about this kid who could predict gas bombs like a medium. He was moved around and although he never had hiccups while on duty after that, there was a surprising lack of gas attacks after that.

The name was his badge of honor to some but to him the name was a badge of participation. He never killed anyone according to his memory at least. He sat in an ugly trench with mud sliding down the "walls" and onto the floors with a gun slung on his back. Every day he hoped that he would be moved into the Trailblazer Battalion which was a fancy name for about five hundred to more than a thousand troops moving along the roads to hunt down the enemy.

It was a glamorous job because it was hero's work. Chasing an invisible deviant who planned on destroying the vital something-or-other and claiming all the glory as he would pin the criminal into a corner and capture him. Those were stories of heroes!

But to Hiccup's disappointment, he was moved to the Army Engineering Corps and spent much of his time building bridges, roads, and re-digging trenches. The one time he saw action was the time he and the rest of the jeep he was in was hit by a landmine. At least he came out alive.

He mindlessly rubbed at his the part of his leg where the prosthetic leg began.

At least he was home and he came back with honors.

Hiccup looked out the window to see a sign with the words, "Welcome to Berk." He smiled at the flowers that grew vibrantly underneath the metal sign. These flowers seemed so out of place, so foreign, so alien. One day they would cover unknown green hills in their beautiful purples, yellows, and reds. But not yet, as they have not been freed.

After an hour, the road became less bumpy and the silence thickened between the son and the father. They could have talked about the war but it was too fresh in their minds. They could have talked about the victory day but it was too worn out. They could have talked about the town but they both knew what it was like. It was a self sustained silence.

After about fifteen minutes through town, they approached a big cabin nestled above the town of Berk. The walls absorbed the light and shone as an eggshell white while fair sized windows separated the monotony of color.

"Son," a gruff voice pulled Hiccup from his observation. "I need to speak to Gobber in town. You remember where the garage is?"

"Yeah," he huffed as he took his luggage from the truck bed, "I remember."

"I'll be home soon. I stocked the pantry and make yourself at home okay?"

"Bye Dad." Hiccup then parted with his father and walked into the household.

He climbed the set of stairs that were directly in front of the main doorway and walked through the hallways until he found a door at the end of a corridor. He turned the doorknob with trepidation, as if the memories of the past would flood him if he was not careful, and entered the room. He laid down his suitcase near the closet door and threw his duffel bag next to his extremely dusty bookcase. He took off his fedora and laid it on a copy of The Red Badge of Courage that sat proudly on the desk. He sat down on his bed and laid down to say to himself.

"I'm home."

* * *

A clean white cargo truck rolled up to City Hall in Berk and trailing behind it a tiny motorcade of jeeps lined with troops. But behind the unusual parade was a sleek black car that looked like it cost more than the entire motorcade and troops combined. When all of the cars stopped in front of City Hall, a frail tall man stepped out of the sleek luxury car and dusted off his suit. More men stepped out of the car with briefcases and files in hand and they all approached the civic building with speed.

The leader of this legal pack had no time to waste, so he walked past security and the Mayor's aide and placed himself right inside the room. Behind closed doors there was a hushed conversation.

But inside the white truck there too was a hushed conversation. Strange crooning and calls were quietly made to one another in the darkness of the cargo hold. It was a mixture of low notes and high notes all rolled together by the legato song and punctuated by clicks and growls. The armor plates that made up the cargo hold shed no daylight so these sounds were all made in the darkness, in dread, in fear.

Then the metal doors that kept the cargo closed were opened and a flood of white light over came the people inside. Their eyes adjusted quickly, they have been taught how to at birth, and they collectively paled.

A group of armed troops all pointed their rifles at the people and yelled, "Get out!" They did not want to die here like pathetic animals; if they would die they would die in broad daylight where they would be seen as people not ghosts. So they exited the cargo hold of the truck and followed their orders, unwillingly.

They were separated and put into tiny groups of two or three. Some were afraid as they were singled out but they were all afraid.

More soldiers came handing out duffel bags, envelopes, and packets of paper. They all knew what the packet was: their new life. The life they have been assigned by some unknown person behind a typewriter and rubber stamp. They all knew what was in the envelope: keys to their "houses," identification cards, and other worthless yet meaningful papers. And they all knew what was in the duffel bags: the few things they were allowed to keep and their cheap replacements and replicas.

Tomorrow they would have to find work, tomorrow they would have to find a way to survive, and tomorrow they would have to endure the suffering that so many others are now subjected to every day.

But today they must find their houses, today they must find a way to unite, today they must sleep.

Because the past could be so cruel.

* * *

The sounds of footsteps awoke Hiccup from his sleep and so he followed the sound downstairs. To much of his surprise, Gobber the mechanic and his father were sitting at a table talking about some business or cars or at least something that he was not slightly interested in.

"O Hiccup!" Gobber stood up from his chair and gave him a, 'Allo there! How ya been?"

"I'm fine, thanks." He finished his precarious climb down the staircase. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Oh, no no I couldn't," Gobber replied. "I have some work tonight. I wanna get it done 'fore 'morrow."

"What's tomorrow?" Hiccup asked suspiciously.

"Well 'idn't you 'ear?" Hiccup only shook his head in confusion. "Well you know 'bout the treaty? A bunch 'o dragons are bein' sent 'cause of 'he treaty."

He remembered reading about the treaty on the bus ride home. Drawn up right after the enemy surrendered. It made for some nice light reading and then he put it down to read I, Claudius which was much better in his own opinion.

"I'm not so sure 'bout these Dragons just walkin' in and workin' wherever they can." Gobber leaned in to whisper to the two. "They might even be spies. Stoic you knew of a few spies right?"

"The Dragons D'Alacala are broken apart and there's no strong head figure. There's no subterfuge goin' on. And even if there was," he took a sip from his glass of water, "The military would put it down."

"Well ya never know Stoic." He gave a cautionary warning and then gave his salutations before leaving.

The rest of the night was fairly uneventful. There was little to do for the rest of the day, since it was four in the afternoon, so he stayed inside and unpacked his things. Stoic and Hiccup interacted very little because there was little to say between them. It was a growing silence that has taken refuge in the home for the past twenty years or so. After Hiccup was born his mother died shortly afterwards. When she was laid to rest, there was a dissonance between the father and the son. No holy spirit that brought them together. It was a reluctant father and a reluctant son with no ghost to unite them together.

They had dinner in stillness and slept in isolation.

Hiccup looked out his bedroom window and spoke softly, "Welcome home." He opened the window and caressed the flowers that knew the pain of so many displaced and ushered into an alien world. "Welcome home."

* * *

A single rooster gave its morning call awakening some poor farmer who owned the blasted thing. The cry echoed from the farm, through the streets, and somehow resonated through Hiccup's window. He yawned and acknowledged the rooster's call by pulling himself out of the bed, attaching the prosthetic leg, and downstairs.

He had a bit of difficulty walking down the stairs with his prosthetic but he made it down alive.

Surprisingly Stoic was already dressed and cooked breakfast. But the real surprise was that the breakfast was hot and not burnt, plentiful, and smelled not of death.

"Son, you need to eat quick and get dressed."

"Wuff? Whaiff?" Hiccup mumbled out as he chewed on a plate of miraculous pancakes.

"We're goin' to town hall." His face darkened, "They're sending out the Dragons."

Hiccup swallowed hard at what was just said.

"Get dressed now an' I'll save you something for the road. I need to get my revolver."

Hiccup nodded and moved swiftly up the staircase to his room. He unpacked his suitcase for something that he could wear so he took a green shirt, threw a light brown jacket over that, and slowly worked both legs through a pair of jeans.

He looked for Stoic around the house and eventually saw that he was approaching his truck that was parked outside. Hiccup grabbed a plate of toast and eggs and moved swiftly to his father.

"Ready?"

"Yeah Dad, just don't drive too fast. I don't want to spill catsup all over me."

The next fifteen minutes were spent in focused silence; Hiccup focused on not spilling any food on his pants and Stoic focused on the road. But the idea of a former member of the Dragons D'Alacala in Berk worried them; and the idea that there was a group of these Dragons was enough to give anyone an ulcer. They were killers, terrorists, guerilla solders that could make booby traps out of household materials, but the worst thing was that they looked like anyone. The only time they wore uniforms was in either massive formations or in military bunkers occupied by the Dragons D'Alacala.

But Hiccup had little time to finish his food because they had already approached the City Hall. It glistened white and the miniature staircase glowed against the dark green uniforms of federal troops who stood around the building at attention.

They both exited the vehicle, but Hiccup was told to stay behind and wait. He saw his father give a man in a well tailored suit a paper and the suit walked inside with the page in hand. It was only moments later when the suit returned with a small squad of soldiers and another man being marched away. The suit shook hands with Stoic and walked back to the truck.

"Son," Stoick whispered, "Stay in the back with the Dragon." He then took out his revolver and handed it to the young man. "Keep an eye on him."

Hiccup wanted to protest against it but he might just risk a former enemy getting away and doing God-knows-what. So he took it and hid it in the waistband of his jeans without any arguments.

The Dragon was loaded up into the back of the truck with the duffle bag assigned by the government and snarled at the men who continued to point their rifles at him. Hiccup took a seat with the past insurgent and with a roar from the dying machine; the now three rode away.

Hiccup looked at the man before him while keeping a light grip on the gun that he holstered. He looked a bit older than he, perhaps two or three years older. His tanned skin shone vehemently in the early morning sunlight. His dark raven hair hung in front of his face to cover his eyes. He stank of sweat, no doubt from his dirty clothes, while the trails of blood combined with the sweat stains. The former Dragon was obviously not a threat. He was too tired to do anything.

Then he looked up at Hiccup and those eyes struck him. Those deep beryl eyes dug deep into his heart, wrapping it in pity as they were filled with hopelessness and self-loathing. It was like a mirror to Hiccup: a sickening living mirror. Then he turned his head away from the young man and refused to look at anything but the scenery pass by. Hiccup thought he saw an ugly tear slide down his face and then the man looked at him with sharpened eyes and furrowed brows.

"Who are you?" Hiccup asked.

"Why don't you tell me?" The man snapped in a harsh bass voice, "You people removed me, destroyed me, ruined me and now there's nothing left. I'm nothing. I'm a piece of clay now: meaningless until someone defiles me, exploits me, uses me, and leaves me for another. A whorish piece of clay…" The ugly tear left his chin and drifted away to be with the flowers that were aliens like him.

"Toothless?" Hiccup gently suggested.

He glared with his blood shot eyes and bore not a single fang at the young soldier. "Like a whorish piece of clay, I am Toothless."

The ride was over.

* * *

The aged red truck pulled over to the Haddock house and with a grunt, stopped in the drive way. The two young men waited shortly for Stoic to let down the truck bed door and when he did they got out solemnly.

"Get inside and we'll talk about what you'll be doin'." Stoic directed the Dragon inside and both father and son stayed close behind him.

They rounded a corner into the dining room and the smells of breakfast continued to linger. The windows brought light to the ancient wooden table giving it the glow of some artifact from a world long gone. Stoic took a seat and so did Toothless and Hiccup.

There was a strange vibration from the three people: Toothless was an enemy, Hiccup was a soldier, Stoic was a soldier. But there were more combinations to add to the dissonant trinity at the table: father, son, servant; old, young, young; native, native, foreigner. No matter at what angle, there was always a conflict that bubbled underneath.

Then Toothless caught a stray wisp of the early morning breakfast. His eyes widened, he swallowed hard, and his stomach roared in agony at the scent. He paled slightly and massaged his belly to ease away the hunger pangs.

"Do ya know what ya going to do here?" Stoic asked.

"You tell me." Toothless replied coldly, "I never got a choice in this," he said trying to suppress the groaning of his empty stomach.

"What kind of education did ya have?"

He grunted in pain as his stomach twisted itself into tightly formed knots. "I was in school for twelve years. Basics."

"How 'bout-"

Hiccup now interrupted his father. "Dad, can you please get him something to eat?"

Stoic looked at him disbelievingly but decided to do what his son asked, not because he was right but because the Dragon's moaning was starting to irritate him.

There was stillness in the little room. Hiccup expected a "thank you," a glimmer of hope, or at least an acknowledgement of his good will but the Dragon kept his gaze from Hiccup with his head fallen.

A plate of eggs, sausage, and pancakes was laid out in front of him. Stoic set a knife and fork wrapped in a napkin next to the plate of food and brought out three cups of water for everyone.

Toothless's eyes widened at the spread; it was more than he would get from the government in a day. He lanced a piece of the cake, a sausage, and a large bit of the scrambled egg, swirled the "breakfast kebab" in the butter and maple syrup that mingled on the pancake pile, ate it, and repeated the process. He never took the time to contemplate about the food, he just ate it. It was moments before the whole plate was empty and he sighed contently at his meal.

A light smile curled upon his face until he opened his eyes; the smile was crushed by fear.

"Are ya ready to talk?" Stoic asked conversationally.

Toothless replied with a shade of insecurity in his voice, "Yes."

"What can ya do?"

"Labor, hard labor, I'm not good at pushing papers."

"That all?"

"All I can think of right now."

Stoic grumbled and continued, "How much do ya owe to the Gov't?"

"Does it matter?"

"Where is your house?" Hiccup asked.

"I wasn't assigned," Toothless took a deep breath, "I wasn't assigned a house."

"That's fine," Stoic interrupted. "Have you worked on a ranch 'fore?"

"It's been a while since I've milked a cow."

"It's like riding a bike," Hiccup interrupted. "How do you not have a house?"

"I dunno. I guess I have to live with one of the others."

"There are plenty o' houses for you people." Stoic said with a slight venom hiding behind his voice. "Can you farm?"

"Dig a hole, drop a seed, water, wait, harvest. Did I get the basics?" Toothless remarked.

"It's ah lot more complex than that I'm afraid."

"Toothless, how far is the housing complex?" Hiccup asked quickly.

"It's across town."

"That's about fifty miles from here," Hiccup said mostly to himself. "Can you drive?"

"Never learned."

"I'm sure someone will bring him," Stoic chided his son. "Or you can take the bus. What about shepherding?"

"Dad, the bus doesn't go anywhere near our house or the other side of town."

"Then he'll have to wake up a little early in the morn' and wait a little in the evening."

"It's three miles from the other side of town to the nearest bus stop and five miles from our house to the bus stop."

"He'll get his exercise."

"That's an hour of walking and an hour on a bus!"

"He'll have to wake up very early," Stoic added gravity to each word.

"It's four hours of traveling in a day!" Hiccup's voice started boil over.

"It doesn't matter!" Stoic shocked the two by rising up and bellowing at his son. Everyone, even himself, was shocked at his behavior. Realizing what he had done, he took a deep breath and asked politely, "Go to your room Hiccup, we'll talk later."

Hiccup did as he said, fearfully for he had never seen his father angry at him. Disappointment, many times but never anger. He solemnly walked up to his room, with the caution to not fall because of his prosthetic, and slammed his bedroom door.

The young man fumed at his father but felt a deeper anger. This deep rage was directed at something that he could not touch, not see, not speak to; he was furious at Toothless's conditions.

But why? He was a Dragon! The enemy! The people who he had spent three years sitting in a God forsaken land for! And yet he was enraged?

He would feel sympathy if it was someone from his school days and he would do anything to help that person…But not Toothless. No, he wanted to be angry! But why?

He looked to the flowers that sat outside his window and watched them. Their natural brightness and shape would not exist naturally here in Berk. Sadness crept upon him.

He looked outside the window and saw Toothless and Stoic talking, probably about what he would be doing for…until his debt has been repaid.

Stoic gestured good bye to the man and he walked away, leaving Toothless there to go back to wherever his home was.

Hiccup wanted to sleep now so he buried himself inside his covers. He never took off his jacket; the world was a very cold place today.


	2. Act 2

**How to Train Your Dragon and all characters associated do not belong to Travis Church.**

Act 2

Hiccup awoke from a dreamless sleep. He thought it was one in the afternoon but his clock proclaimed seven at night. The sky was dimly lit by the last remnants of the sun as it was surrounded by the navy coverings of the moon.

He carefully walked downstairs and found his father not at the dining room table but in his place was a pot of beef stew. He knew that his father would be called back to work late sometimes. Hiccup and Stoic eventually got past the vocal apologies and instead Stoic would cook dinner and leave it there while Hiccup only expected it to happen. They moved on and the emptiness that the other would leave at the dinner table no longer stung but instead offered a soothing balm to the awkwardness between them.

On days like this, when the warm air kissed the skin with its sweet fire, Hiccup would walk outside and watch the colors of the sky fade away and gaze at the stars grow.

He took a bowl and filled it with the hearty soup and walked outside into the nighttime heat.

He wandered around the property and somehow walked close to the barn. His great-great-grandfather built it with his own two hands and it still stands today. He walked inside and the smells of hay and aged wood brought him to a state of bliss. But there was an undertone of sweat in the air. A slight ruffling of hay echoed throughout and he approached the noise.

In the corner was a ragged man ruffling with a pile of hay and a flimsy blanket.

It was Toothless and when he caught sight of Hiccup, he became extremely afraid.

"I'm sorry!" Toothless screamed, "Please don't-"

"It's okay," Hiccup looked at him dumbly. "Why aren't you at your house?"

There was a pause, "I never got one," he replied grimly.

"Can't you stay with someone, like a friend?"

"I never got one."

Hiccup raised an eyebrow at his declaration.

"War changes things you know?" Toothless asked with a hopeful glint in his eyes. "You get separated from the people you are close with and then you try to get close with strangers and they just shoot you down. They're strangers and you're a stranger to them. They don't want strangers; they want people who they know already. It takes too long to make a friend and in war a person can disappear in a second.

Toothless sighed, "A man can only try so many times before he gives up. Then you separate yourself. After that..." The sentence dangled helplessly as he looked far away into the distance, for a meaning perhaps.

Hiccup carefully sat down, right across from Toothless, and gave him his bowl of stew.

"No no no, I couldn't." Toothless said but his stomach roared in protest.

Hiccup handed him the bowl and watched in peaceful silence as he set the wooden bowl to his lips and drank the hearty soup.

Toothless did not swallow the stew like the breakfast; he took his precious time to absorb the delicious fire into his soul. Then he set down the bowl and looked at Hiccup in question. He pushed the bowl into the space that separated them.

"No, you can have it," he refused his offer. "You need it."

But Toothless had no response, continuing to offer the bowl by inching it even closer to him.

Hiccup took the stew and sipped from the brim, taking in the beautiful heat that passed his lips. He put down the bowl and pushed it back to Toothless and asked, "Do you need a house?"

Toothless only looked at the floating pieces of meat and vegetables before saying, "Any man could have a house but a real man, he needs a home."

Hiccup watched in awe of this person as he took the bowl and sipped the warmth it gave. He needed so much; so much care, so much help, so much time to mend. How do you fix a broken person?

But something in the back of his mind asked him, "How does a person break?"

Hiccup looked at the man in front of him was war weathered, a Dragon D'Alacala, and a loser…He lost. Is that how a person breaks? But the bird perched itself on his shoulder and sang softly a melody that inquired, "When did he break?" Was it when he lost? Was it when he became a Dragon? Was it during the war? Or was when war was unleashed? Did he slowly wilt into this person or did he snap into this deformed shape?

Hiccup felt something for this person.

"Thank you," Toothless whispered under his voice. Hiccup was called to the man and he saw that the bowl was empty, save for a few droplets of soup.

Hiccup felt a deep need for this person.

Toothless placed the bowl in the space that separated them.

Hiccup felt something…

Toothless looked with his beryl eyes and into his emerald eyes with a blank stare. Underneath that neutrality was the light glimmer of appreciation, of gratitude, of connection.

"Please stay for the night. I'll get you a-"

"No!" Those eyes took a shade of fear, "I can't get caught outside the-"

"You won't get caught." He put his hand on Toothless's knee. "I promise."

Toothless looked around anxiously as if his life were in danger, which it probably was.

"I'll get a pillow and more stew." He left the man, feeling the atmosphere change into something sharper and dense.

Toothless sat there in fear, a never ending whirlwind of anxiety that only grew with time. It weathered against the thin faith in the young man that he now serves. It broke apart pieces of the hope that Hiccup would not go to the police or the military to come arrest him. He had a few options to escape the tempest that was slowly emerging in his soul. He could run, leave the barn, escape; but where to go? These forests were foreign to him and he would surely get lost. Or he could stay and face the dangers of what is about to come next.

He stayed and prepared to accept his awful fate.

The barn door creaked open and Hiccup entered while carefully cradling a pillow in his arms and an object wrapped in a blue blanket. He set down the object and sat down where he was previously. Hiccup handed the pillow to Toothless and he tested its fluffiness by squeezing it his hands. He was pleased and gave the cushion a cautious hug.

Toothless watched the young man unwrap the unknown package and immediately smelled more of the stew he had before. Before him was a metal pot, Hiccup opened the lid and out sprang clouds of hot steam and moist air. He salivated at the sight and watched in eagerness as Hiccup ladled spoonfuls of the stew into the wooden bowl that he forgot to take with him.

Hiccup handed the offering to Toothless, who gladly took it in his hands. He was surprised by Toothless's hands; they were so soft but they were so cold. His hands lingered in the air as Toothless embraced the soup in his own and brought the food to his lips. His own hands were possibly as soft but they were nowhere near as cold. Does war change the mind and soul as well as the body?

The atmosphere softened into blissful warmth: Christmas by the fireplace, in the kitchen with grandparents, or on the porch in autumn. There was something that lingered around the two as they sat together in the in contentment of each other.

When Toothless put down the half empty bowl in his lap, Hiccup asked, "When are you going to start work?"

"Tomorrow," he bluntly stated.

"What will you do?"

"Herd sheep, dig out rocks, remove tree stumps. The works."

"What are you paid?"

Toothless thought momentarily before responding robotically, "We're not allowed to get paid more than half the minimum wage per hour."

"The minimum wage is twenty two cents here."

"Then I guess I'll get eleven cents an hour."

"That's not enough for a day's worth of food."

"I'll get by."

"Bus fare's a cent."

"I'll get by," the Dragon said with more force.

"A shirt's five cents."

"I'll get by."

"The doc charges eight cents for a visit."

"I'll get by."

"Stationery is-"

"I'll get by!" Toothless shouted catching Hiccup off guard. "I don't need shiny cars, fancy hats, or toys! I have a debt to pay and I won't be a man until I'm debt free. So don't give me your sympathies or your condolences or anything. I don't need anything else. A man's worth what men think he's worth. I've got debt so what does that make me? A nobody or a negative person? I'll get by, I just need…" The sentence hung in the air, broken in a million ways, and evaporated into a thick haze of self-loathing.

Hiccup stared in silence before he got up from his seat. He wanted to be alone; alone from the world and its unfortunate servants.

* * *

Long after Hiccup returned to the house Stoic returned from the factory. The moon shone its pale colors and Toothless decided walk into the neighboring forest.

No one was awake, no one was afraid, no one would know; no one but him.

Toothless walked in a straight line through the forest until he reached a stream of water, reflecting the night sky in its natural reflection.

He untied his shoes and stepped his feet into the icy water. The feel was so surprising, like a set of needles pricking his skin, but he enjoyed the feel. He forgot what it was like to feel, feel anything. The light pain was refreshing after being deprived of interaction, of community, of home.

He looked himself in the water and felt a twinge of guilt for the young man. He should have not snapped at him, there was no reason at all, but it felt so good to be angry! Angry at someone for his misfortunes, his new life, his servitude; Gods knew how refreshing it was.

But the anger hurt and bruised his soul; looking into the water, he seemed so different. The bags under his eyes, the light frown that curved at his lips, the lack of energy; it was all so different from what he was before the war.

Looking deeper into the reflection of his eyes, he saw that young man lingering in the fog of his eyes. It was so reminiscent of Hiccup: the air of defeat, the feel of looking in when you are outside, the sound of concern and fear laced behind every word. Hiccup wanted to protect him…

It shouldn't be that way…

He took off from the midnight creek and memories of war played in his mind. The thrill of close combat, the rush of the chase, the ecstasy of being in the charge, the honor of receiving a dying soldier's final words, the glory of leading men to victory despite the fallen commander. He was decorated, respected, valued, and remembered.

But he whispered, "I should be protecting him; I'm stronger, older, faster, more experienced; I should be protecting him!" He shouted into the night sky and rammed a fist into a nearby tree.

He bled and oh how wonderful it felt to be in pain. That his soul and mind were connected to his body and he could still feel something other than pity and fear.

He resumed his exit from the woods and found the barn that he called home. "But how can I protect him when I can't protect myself?"

He looked to a small plot of blue flowers and watched them dance with a light breeze.

"And the meek shall inherit the Earth," he whispered as entered the barn to sleep.

* * *

Toothless awoke very early in the morning, before the sun peaked over the horizon, as his body was tickled by the cold air. He stretched his arms and gave a soundless yawn before realizing where he was. His bags, his things, he himself was still in the barn; and if Stoic Haddock found out that he was hiding in his property past government curfew then he could be punished. Severely.

He grabbed his things and ran back into the forest. He stumbled around looking for a place to hide his belongings.

A tiny glade with a cave nestled by a large fishpond sat about fifteen minutes from the barn, which would be about twenty minutes from the Haddock house. He concealed his things inside the little cave and covered it with some large tree branches that fell to the Earth.

He had time to rest until he had to begin the first day of his many labors.

Walking over to the pool, he asked himself if this was what he wanted. Chained by laws? Imprisoned by debt? Held by a weakling and his father?

He could run, he might make it to the next town, or even stay in the deepest part of these woods. But someone would look for him and…

It was too much to think about. Toothless just stood there looking at his own contorted reflection and waited for the right time.


	3. Act 3

**How to Train Your Dragon and all characters associated do not belong to Travis Church.**

Act 3

Hiccup eventually arose from his unsettling slumber and according to his clock it was ten in the morning. He looked out his window and saw Toothless outside carrying a plow on his shoulder. It was his first day of work, and it seemed like he was doing fine.

Hiccup decided after eating that he would go talk with Toothless, it wouldn't hurt. As usual, Stoic was gone to the factory and he left a plate for Hiccup. It was cold to the touch and finished in loneness.

He left the house and began to walk carefully around the grounds. His leg was not fully awake and his prosthetic foot has not been cleaned lately. The cool morning air immediately pricked his skin as he began searching for the man.

It was a bit of time before he found Toothless plowing the earth; he made some progress but it did not look like much from afar.

"Good morning," Hiccup called out.

Toothless continued working for a second and replied succinctly with, "Mornin'"

"How well did you sleep?"

"Fine."

"Oh, okay." Hiccup was taken aback by how short he was being. "How long have you been working?"

"An hour."

"Is this all you're going to do?"

"No, there's more work to be done."

"Like what?"

He stopped and turned to the younger, "I'll do what I needs to be done."

"There's a stump by the barn that needs to be pulled out."

"I'll dig it out later," he shortly said.

"Oh, okay."

Hiccup began to walk away before Toothless called out, "Wait!" Hiccup was caught by surprise, "I didn't mean to."

"It's okay, I think." There was a silence that existed for the sole purpose of existing. "Can you go into town to get me something?"

"No, not without a natural born citizen." Hiccup noted a twinge of self-loathing.

"Then when you're done, you'll go with me to get something in town. We'll even have lunch."

"Uhh, okay."

Hiccup began to walk away before the man caught his attention again.

"Thank you, for the lunch."

Hiccup resumed walking and had a light smile on his face.

* * *

After the work had been finished, Hiccup walked over to Toothless and asked to accompany him to the town.

The first few minutes were observed in silence. Hiccup gave loosely attended to the universe before him and the dirt road that connected his house to the modern world. Toothless on the other hand gave a great deal of focus to the younger's prosthetic. It occasionally appeared as a thin rod when Hiccup walked forward but it then fell back into the fabric of the pants. Like an actor running from the curtain and backstage in a perfect rhythm.

He felt nothing for the boy. But it was a shame that he had to have the thing attached to him.

"Where were you stationed?" Hiccup's question brought his attention back to the younger.

"All over the place," Toothless said as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "I spent a bit of time in Zimbabwe."

"I was there for a while, did you learn the language?"

"A few phrases here and there. Did you learn Shona?"

"That's what it's called? I thought it was Zimbabwean." They laughed for a moment. "Did you like it over there?"

"It was alright, nothing real exciting though."

"It was warm." Hiccup internally scolded him for saying something so basic and stupid.

"Yes, it was."

Hiccup had to think for a bit before he could find something intelligent to ask. "Do you remember some Shona?"

"Nothing comes to mind though."

Suddenly, Hiccup lost his footing on the earthen road and fell to the ground. Toothless then lifted up the former solider and brought him to his feet.

"Thanks for helping me up," Hiccup said as he dusted off his pants.

"Hiccup, Makasimba ere?" The sudden phrase from Toothless surprised him and it was a few seconds before Hiccup could respond.

"What?"

"Makasimba ere means 'are you strong' in Shona."

Hiccup hummed and then replied slowly, "Ndakasimba kana makasimba-wo. Which should be, 'I am strong if you are strong.'"

Toothless smiled and replied, "Ndakasimba, which is 'then I am strong.'"

"Thanks again."

"You're welcome."

They continued their walk to the town, feeling stronger and closer.

* * *

The walk into town was discomforting to say the least. Upon entering the main district, people gave nods of approval to Hiccup and saw clear through Toothless. Many smiled at Hiccup and scowled at Toothless. Some even pulled their children away from the former dragon.

But one disturbed Toothless beyond anything else.

An old man sitting down at a bench spoke to a young child and said, "See that young fellow over there? He's bein' a good master, takin' it for a walk. I want you to remember to take it out for a walk every now an' then. Got it?"

Hiccup did not hear the old man but judging Toothless's expression, it was something that did not should not be repeated.

* * *

They continued onwards to the town diner and Hiccup could still feel some apprehension.

"Toothless? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I am very fine. Never better."

"Alright."

Toothless's answers were short, abrupt, pointed, staccato, and almost sharp. He did not waste words, he saved them. For himself? For another occasion? "For what could he be saving them for?" Hiccup asked himself these questions until he realized that his companion stopped walking.

He turned around and saw Toothless looking at a wooden sign. Hastly pasted upon was a map of Berk.

Toothless was examining it carefully, tracing his fingers on the roadways and avenues. He guided a finger northwards and into a small square implanted on the fringe of the woods.

The square was shaded a grayish color. Hiccup looked at the key and next to a sample of the color were the words, "Restricted to natural born citizens."

Hiccup was born in the small clinic that aided many patients here in town. He was a native. He was natural born. He was not allowed there.

But Toothless was.

"Come on," Hiccup's hand on the former dragon's shoulder slammed Toothless back to the natural born world. "Let's go."

Toothless obeyed, he did not agree to go with him, he obeyed the command.

* * *

The two moved along and Hiccup could feel something growing in the space that separated him from Toothless.

It was cold, it was sticky, it was rough, it was metallic, it was dark, it was moaning. It was an indescribable feeling that grew upon him like a malicious ivy vine. Growing, expanding, unrelenting; it was a persistent devil.

To the beat of their footsteps, the thing marched onwards to its own cadence.

When the sun blared upon them, its leaves jutted outwards giving shade to Toothless in its grotesque and malformed leaves. Colors hung showing its allegiance to the nation of Hell .

Hiccup was afraid to get any closer because its thorns were both large and poisonous. He was afraid they would cut him apart like the Devil's tongue.

In observance, he saw this weed wrap around Toothless's head like a crown of thorns and grip his mind with fanatic devotion.

"Toothless?"

The ivy leaves paused to listen to the feeble attempt at salvation.

"Where are you from?"

Toothless's sigh rustled the leaves causing them to make an almost laughing sound, "Why would you like to know?"

"No reason, I'd just like to know more about you. I'm curious about who you are."

A glowing radiance bubbled out of him, like a headlight emerging from the fog. "South of Berk."

"How south?"

"Umm," the weed shook desperately to distract Toothless from his train of thought. "Do you know that place where they make the best wines in France?"

"Yes."

"I came from there."

"It's a beautiful place. I'd like to be by the beach."

"The ocean is beautiful too. But I love sitting under a tree when there's still dew on the grass and mist in the air. And when the sun rises, I watch the light bounce around and make little rainbows on the ground and make the fruits all look like gems and diamonds."

The monstrous ivy was burned away by the light that poured out of Toothless. The joy, the energy, the individual inside burst out of the forest of darkness.

Hiccup watched this new Toothless radiate around him, encapsulating the two with a warm silky heat.

He then closed the gap and heard the heartbeat of hope.

* * *

They finally approached the diner and the smells of cooked meat and roast wafted out of the small building.

Upon entering, Hiccup noticed something odd about the décor of the room. There were pro-military decorations everywhere, a chalkboard that counted the lost battles and cities, a map that was colored with the newly acquired territories, and even a wall of Berkian men sent out to the field. Hiccup could pick out a few people who he personally knew, but many of them were unfamiliar to him.

Then he saw something that made him worried: a sign that read, "Dragons served in the back."

Hiccup was about to pull Toothless out of the diner but then a violent scene unfolded.

A cook and a random person were both arguing before about something.

"Hey, Drake!" Toothless winced at the word. "Get outta that seat!"

"But I'm already here and I've been waiting for half an hour for my lunch!"

"Then you can wait some more in the corner for you people."

"Why? I've been patient and reasonable and-"

"It doesn't matter; just get out of that seat."

"But why does he," pointing to a random person standing by the entrance, "Get to sit in my seat and I have to get up?"

"Because, he wasn't a murderer, a rapist, or a loser."

"I didn't do any of that!" The man defended.

"You're a Dragon, you lost, and now you live in our town." The cook said the last part with extreme zeal. "You either play by our rules or you can leave with a military escort."

Defeated, the Dragon got out of his seat and waited in the special section of the diner. He rushed past the taunting crowds and entered the dimly lit part of the diner and dropped himself into a rusted barstool that moaned with his weight.

Hiccup turned to his side, absolutely hypnotized by the carnage, and realized that Toothless was gone.

He was outside of the diner, standing there defeated like the man exiled to the corner of the diner. They must be so lonely, on the fringes of the world. No one to carry their burdens with them, like a lonesome laborer in the fields.

Hiccup exited the diner and walked over to the older man.

When he realized that the younger was standing there, eyes wide with concern, he took deep breaths to calm himself and to make his tiny voice heard.

"I'm sorry Hiccup," Toothless began, "I just needed…some fresh air."

There was a slight pause from Hiccup, "Are you okay?"

"Not really. I just…couldn't stay there."

"Do you want to go back?"

"Inside? No."

"Is there anywhere you want to go before we head back?"

"I'd like to see my people."

"Let's go then."

A look of shock exploded throughout Toothless's face. "Are you sure? You may not be…comfortable."

"I'll be fine. C'mon, lets go."

* * *

They walked north, they felt the road devolve from pavement to earth, they watched the cultivated grasses and flowers grow unruly, and they sensed the gasoline laced air drift away.

Then they saw a large monolithic structure amongst the trees. It looked disparate, hastily built, and looked like an eyesore. Slowly it became clear on what it was. A gate. A large ugly, rickety gate that hid the camp from the outside world.

Toothless pushed open the tinfoil gate and a rush of scents hit them. Sweat, blood, urine, excrement, dirt, and burned things.

Upon entering, the image of poorly made shacks cropped around the main dirt road of this place. Every small dwelling was formed out of tin, large pieces of wood, and whatever they could find to provide protection or heat. Berk got cold, frequently, and despite whatever measures the residents could do, it would not be nearly effective enough to withstand the temperatures. These people would freeze every day, every night, forever.

He looked at each house, searching the small portholes for life, listening for the murmur of socializing, waiting for the smell of home cuisine. Then it hit Hiccup, there were no people here. Not a single soul roamed these streets. No children, no parents to watch them, not even an idle vagrant to be seen.

It was a ghost town. Or at the very least a town that no one, not even their inhabitants, wanted to be in.

Toothless wandered the street, causing a small cloud of dust to trail behind him.

Hiccup could feel the eyes upon him. These eyes were like the eyes of starved dogs, hollow, fearful, desperate. There was no safety alone in this place.

But he had Toothless and the eyes were not upon him. He was like a shield or a curtain of protection. So he went closer to the older and made it clear to whoever was watching that they were together.

Until death do they part.

* * *

Hiccup and Toothless continued through the slums until they reached an unnoticeable shack that looked like many of the others.

"I am going in." Toothless said.

"I'll stay outside."

"Okay," Toothless then pushed back the unsound wooden door and descended into the place.

Hiccup felt colder the moment he left his side. The world seemed so much lonelier, so much emptier, and so much quieter. But the oppression of those eyes that followed his every move, the cold air wracked his bones, the silence crushed his soul.

There was nothing here, in more ways than one.

Then there was a sound of breaking glass that jolted throughout the tiny slum house. Hiccup went quickly into the hovel and found Toothless standing underneath a doorway.

"Toothless?" There was no response. "What is it?"

As Hiccup walked to the man, he made sure not to step upon the glass shards that were scattered around his feet, edges gleaming with pride and sharpness. Approaching the doorway, he noticed a thin white sheet was draped over something that stained it with a deep mahogany. He peered to the farthest end of the sheet and felt absolute fear as the burgundy soiled sheet sunk down on the object to create the silhouette of a face.

"Toothless," Hiccup with a fear trembling in his voice, "What is this?"

"Home," he ominously replied.

The place stank of rotting and death. Hiccup anxiously asked, "Can we leave?"

"You can leave. I can leave. But can we ever leave this behind us?"

"I'm not sure what you're saying," Hiccup half asked.

Toothless then began to walk out of the room and Hiccup followed him immediately.

They then began to leave one home for another.

It was late, they needed rest.

And so sets the sun upon the heart of darkness.


	4. Act 4

**How to Train Your Dragon and all characters associated do not belong to Travis Church.**

Act 4

The day afterwards, Hiccup was very cautious. He thought that Toothless could have been sleeping in the barn or he could have hid himself in the nearby woods. Either way, he was not safe. The place where the other Dragons resided was absolute hell on Earth, outside of the relocation zones any Dragon could be reported and exported out and possibly killed, hiding in the woods offered no protection against the cold, and at any moment Stoic could walk into the barn and find Toothless sleeping there and he could be reported and killed.

Stoic was the kind of man who would take matters into his own hands. So could he slay him on the spot if he could? Yes, he could do so. But would he do so? Hiccup was not sure.

He stood up from his bed and looked out the window. Toothless was laboring outside, cutting some logs the old-fashioned way: axe in the air, a stump for a table, and gravity. It was very labor intensive, but traditionally sound.

Snapping on his prosthetic, he began to carefully walk downstairs to bid Toothless good morning.

Halfway down the stairs, he was surprised as he saw Stoic walking up to him.

"Mornin son," Stoic gruffly said.

"Yeah, morning."

Stoic brushed his eyes over Hiccup quickly and then asked, "Why aren't ya dressed?"

"Dressed for what?"

"Don't ya remember what today is?"

Hiccup shook his head and then vocalized his confusion.

"Today is ya appointment with tha doc."

"Which one?" This response was very appropriate considering his newest handicap and the numerous medical treatments for gas exposure, possible diseases, poor diet while on tour, and the psychological effects of war.

"Doctor Hedgegrove."

Hiccup brightened up at the name. He was the local Berkian doctor for the past fifty years. It seemed as if he knew every generation by face and every disease by name. He was known, respected, even loved by the community.

"Today's ya appointment with the doc. I'll drive ya there and while ya in the doc's office, I'll run some errands."

"Okay." Hiccup then began to walk upwards to get appropriately dressed.

"And, you'll have to take Toothless."

He stopped in his tracks to turn to Stoic. "Why?"

"I don't," he began to think carefully about his words. "I don't trust him here. Alone."

"He's fine here."

"I just don't want him to," he gestured fantastically, "Ya know."

"No I don't know and I don't think he needs to be babysat while we're away," Hiccup said with an aggressive tone.

"I will not argue with you on this!" Stoic's aggressive tone surprised Hiccup and himself. He took a deep breath and then continued. "Just do what I tell ya. Understand?"

There were not words for this conversation. Hiccup and Stoic were very experienced in this type of encounter. Both would not subside. Both would not compensate. Both would not delegate. No cooperation would be achieved. They both turned around and proceeded with their business and Stoic would have his way. Stoic would always have his way when it came to matters of the family.

Hiccup entered his room and did not bother to close the door. He dug through his closet, which he had the time to organize, and began to methodically choose clothes. He settled on a pair of khakis and a golf shirt that he received for Christmas.

He sat down on his bed and carefully weaved his prosthetic leg through one pants leg and gracefully moved the other leg through the other one. As he put his head through the polo that smelled of dust and stale air, he forgot where he put his tennis shoes. He spent a fair amount of time looking for those shoes and found it underneath his bed.

He smiled as the memories of playing with a few of his childhood friends graced back to him. He was not very good at tennis but neither were they. He chuckled at the images that popped in his head as he began to tie the laces around in a symmetric knot.

In the past, there was a sense of safety and humanity in the world.

But war changes everything.

* * *

Hiccup finished dressing himself and then proceeded very carefully down the stairway. Each step was deliberate and precise, no use getting hurt on the way to the doctor's office.

He walked outside and saw Toothless chopping up a large log into smaller logs for firewood. He was sweaty, a little red, and by the looks of it—very bored.

"Toothless!" Hiccup called out.

The older man turned to him and asked, "What is it?"

"We're going to the doctor's office," Hiccup had to choose his tone very carefully so he wouldn't create any suspicion as to why the man needs to come with him. "Would you like to come with us?"

"I'm not so sure," the memories of their visit to the town diner still fresh in his mind.

"It'll be a chance to not be outside in the sun." He did not look impressed. "Please?"

There was a moment of uncertainty in Hiccup's mind. Why should this person go with them? There was no purpose, no importance, and no necessary objective to accomplish with his aid. Aside from a legal bond to their family name, there was nothing that could force him to Hiccup's call. But was there? Did they not have a friendship? Did they not have some universal connection that transcends origin, nationality, age, and mortality itself?

And as Hiccup considered their friendship as nothing less of professionalism, Toothless put down the axe and agreed to go.

There was no need of him to go, but yet he did so.

They approached Stoic's rusted truck and Hiccup continued to question Toothless's motives. And as they loaded themselves into the bed, there was no reason why their friendship was pure. They bonded through one person's vulnerability. Toothless bonded to Hiccup because of an obligation to him and Hiccup bonded to Toothless because of an obligation to him. It was a completely symbiotic relationship that was perhaps even platonic.

And when the wheels began to move, Hiccup began to question Stoic's motives. Toothless was in no way able to start a rebellion, there were simply not enough guns or ammo in the house, and he was not emotionally capable of executing one. He had no charisma, he was not very remarkable, and he is in no shape for any violence. The war made him sick of sin and blood.

Toothless had no way to escape Berk. He had no money, the forest would swallow him alive, and Stoic would just hunt him down like an animal.

And yet he needed a babysitter? Someone to watch over him like an all-seeing eye? Did he absolutely need such a thing?

Stoic seemed to think so.

The ride was filled with such confusion; it was if a fog had rolled over Mount Sinai.

* * *

They arrived at Doctor Hedgegrove's place of work, nestled on Meno Avenue.

Stoic called out to the two in the back, "I'll be back in an hour. Understand?"

Hiccup nodded in affirmation. And when they exited the truck bed, Stoic gently pulled out into the street and left the two for the good doctor.

The clinic, on the outside, looked like a house with a fairly kept yard and a white picket fence.

Pushing aside the wooden gate, Hiccup walked onto the brick path with Toothless trailing behind him. The glass window read, "Doctor Hedgegrove" and the main door had a sign posted that read, "The Doctor is in."

Hiccup knocked on the wooden door and waited patiently. The brick house looked new and clean but in the back of his mind Hiccup knew the house had existed for generations. Perhaps even since the beginnings of Berk. The idea of a straw hut evolving past all ages humored him.

Then the door opened and a kindly old man, perhaps in his early seventies, smiled to the two people standing before his home.

"Greetings Hiccup," he said warmly. "It has been a very long time since your last check up." He then looked over to Toothless and said, "I have not met you before."

"I would be surprised if you did," he replied distantly.

"When did you arrive?"

"A few days ago."

"Ahh, I see." Doctor Hedgegrove began to rub his wrinkled face. "What is your name Sir?"

"Toothless."

"Toothless what?"

"It is only Toothless."

"I see," the words dangled in the air. "Well please do not linger outside, come in and do take a seat. I have a patient currently and it should not take long before I can address you Hiccup."

Upon entering the little office, Toothless quickly realized that this was a person home: a home that doubled as a clinic. Doctor Hedgegrove turned a corner and then disappeared but Hiccup was not worried. He took a seat upon the couch and picked up the latest newspaper that rested on the coffee table.

"Do you want something? Some cheese?" Hiccup offered to the man. "There's a plate of finger foods here."

Toothless walked over to him and saw a plate decorated lightly with a few slices of cheese, bread, sausages, and even chocolates.

"I'd rather not." Toothless replied as he stood next to the couch.

"Okay then. But you can sit you know."

"I'd rather not."

"But why? Doctor Hedgegrove bought these couches for patients. It's not like you're desecrating an ancient artifact."

Toothless seemed a bit unwilling but he gave into the suggestion and sat down onto the couch.

The older man felt odd in this place. The wooden floors, the curtains, the numerous paintings, even the baby grand piano that sat in the background of the living room; it all felt like opulence. And that aesthetic gave him the strangest feeling. He felt angry, hurt, jealous, small, and useless against the vivid colors and eccentric décor. His debt could easily be paid off by that baby grand piano. So what was he in the eyes of the government? A piano's worth? A few paintings worth? A crate of fine wines worth? It made him furious that someone had the gall to assign him a value. How could they know what he was? But it also made him feel worthless that a person could have the money to replace his existence. He was nothing but a part of a larger machine.

"Hiccup?" The doctor's voice yanked him out of his furor. "I am now ready for you."

"Can my," Hiccup did not know the words to describe Toothless. He did not know whether to say servant, friend, or lie to his face.

"Yes," Hedgegrove said, "He may accompany you."

Hiccup sighed as he did not have to go through the ordeal of explaining Toothless's condition to the doctor.

The three turned a corner of the house and entered a room coated in white. White tiles, white walls, white curtains, white bed sheets, white everything. Everything was clean and simplistic unlike the living room that Toothless had to endure.

"So how long has it been since our last checkup?" Hedgegove asked as Hiccup took a seat on the patient's chair.

"Three years maybe?"

"Hmm," he took out a file with Hiccup's name neatly written on the tab. "Yes that seems about correct. Well, let us have a look see."

Hedgegrove was very methodical about the examination; he started with the head and worked his way downwards and every time he asked a question he was direct and to the point for answer.

"So how is the farm?" The doctor asked when he disposed of a glove.

"Not bad."

"I see you have some helping hands over here."

Hiccup looked to Toothless who was busying himself with a manuscript about good hygiene. "You could say that."

"Is he an indentured servant?"

"Yes," Toothless interjected, "I am."

"Hiccup and Toothless, are you interested in a small lesson?"

They both looked at each other and nodded.

"Please follow me."

They walked out of the examination room and into the living room. They turned a corner and into what must have been the doctor's office. Numerous maps and books were in the room and they watched the doctor walk behind his desk and pull out papers with government seals on them and pictures of children and adults with notes written on the back.

"They are so young, do you not agree?"

"What are so young?" Hiccup asked.

"These dragon children."

The two looked at each other and waited for Hedgegrove to continue.

"When the government realized that both adults and children would be absolved into the nation, the first item on the agenda was to design and locate the relocation districts and to design the school curriculum for the children. The government hired contractors and pediatric psychologists for both tasks. Why? For one reason, to create a generation of indentured servants that would accept their grim fate."

He walked over to numerous maps which hung on the wall, each with the trademark small grey square on the edges of the map. He pointed to a map labeled "Berk" and resumed his speech.

"The relocation districts would be positioned in the worst part of the city or town that would have the longest commute into the city or town but also have the largest amount of isolation while still being within the legal geographic jurisdiction of the local government to collect taxes. Then the schools, no the single room sheds, would be positioned on the opposite end of the city or town. Once in the schools, the curriculum would be designed so that way the children would receive material that is a year above them. Second graders would receive a third grade education and third graders would receive a fourth grade education, so on and so forth. The government also created a new law as for child education: children who fail the year examination shall be held back despite the grade assigned by teachers and children shall only be held back eight times before they are expelled permanently from the school district."

He wandered away from the map and sat down in his chair.

"Imagine waking up in a poorly created home, watching your mother and father barely bring food to the morning meal, walking miles to the bus stop, going on the bus and watching all these other children and families inside the town succeed and live happy fruitful lives, going into school and feeling overwhelmed by the material, go home, compare yourself and your family to the other families who are clearly living more successfully, repeat this until the final exam which you fail miserably, and repeat this process for eight years."

He paused to look outside the window.

"What kind of people would arise of this process? What kind of citizens are we creating? The government created a systematic approach to demoralization and it is working magnificently. I have done a study on a few boys and girls and asked them to choose dolls that appeared to have positive qualities and negative qualities. There is no obvious correct answer, but this test establishes a study to show the child's mindset in respect to race. When asked which dolls were 'smart and handsome', they chose dolls that were paler than themselves. As for the 'dumb and ugly' dolls, they chose dolls that had the same skin complexion as themselves. It is obvious that these children find that the natural born citizens are superior to themselves. These children are taught and bred to fail and so they may one day accept their 'debts' and become modern day slaves. And when that day comes, their humanity and ours as well shall cease to exist."

"Why are you telling us this?" Hiccup asked.

"Because I know you would agree. Hiccup, you are the kind of person who would find information and one day try to climb to the tallest mountain to proclaim it. I know you will one day take this and show it to the world. Show the world the atrocities of our people. Science has the power to harm and to do good. Man created penicillin only a year ago but man also created mustard gas, I am sure you have both experienced these two creations. Man created psychology, the study of the mind and how it operates, and there have been many explanations about how man can be designed to become greater. But with it, there is the ability to understand how man can become designed to become inferior."

He walked over to Hiccup and Toothless.

"I know one day that you shall lead us to the light because you carry this fire, this passion, this deep love for all of humanity. And as of now, the Dragons D'Alacala need someone like you to carry them to their promised land. A land where they deserve to live freely and without the fear of oppression, of demonization, and of neglect."

"But how do you know that I can do any of that? I mean, look at me!"

"Do you not care for this man next to you?" Hiccup looked to Toothless. "Do you not fear what he fears? Do you not love what he loves? Do you not need what he needs? I know that you do not have the inherent ability, the natural ability, to hate and to despise and to scorn. You are a good man with a good heart. And I know that somehow and in some way you shall help these people out of their squalor and destitution."

"But how can you have such faith in me? I'm just some average person in a small town with no one behind me!"

"You also have nothing to lose, everything to gain, and you do have someone who will support you in this task."

"Well? Who is this person?"

"I cannot tell you."

"Then I have no one."

"You will have someone who shall support you. This person can be as young as five or as old as a hundred, this person can be man or woman, this person can be intelligent or a fool, and this person can live in the city or in the rural parts of society."

"So who is this person?" Hiccup asked cynically.

"This person has not been called upon yet, because you have not called upon them. This person, these people all have a moral compass that pulls them to their first and only duty: to protect those who are weak. They do not know or choose not to know. But when you force upon them the images of poverty, the stories of the abuse, the names of the broken, they shall rise in legions and fight a battle that shall be won."

"And how can you have such faith?" Toothless asked suddenly. "How can anyone do any of this? How can you believe," a small tear began to well up in his eye, "How can you believe in something… something so impossible?"

"I have faith because I know it to be true. Anyone has the ability to correct any mistake, but we must be presented with that choice before we can act."

The grandfather clock rang signaling to Hiccup that an hour has passed.

"We need to go." Hiccup pulled Toothless out of the office. "Thanks for the checkup."

"You will lead them. I know you shall." And as Hedgegrove could no longer hear footsteps from the two he whispered to an observer, "Be brave young one, he shall leave your safe arms soon."

The day was done.


	5. Act 5

**How to Train Your Dragon and all characters associated do not belong to Travis Church.**

Act 5

It was a very hot day and Hiccup decided to help Toothless with the chopping. They shared a few laughs and even finished the work early. But it was hot, for what they were used to, and friendship could not solve the climate. They both had time to relax and so undid their shirts and slept underneath the shade of the tall fir.

It was some time before Hiccup came to his senses. Although his mind was not nearly as sharp, he felt the light pulsations of some tiny fire surrounding him. It was heavy, a little wet, and felt like something familiar. Flesh. Sweaty hot skin wrapped him in a gentle fire. Hiccup slowly opened his eyes and found Toothless embracing him. He looked discontent and almost desperate. He returned the embrace and saw the subconscious fear that struck his face slowly ease out; as if he was massaging the anxiety away. He hugged him because he needed him, even in the farthest reaches of his mind.

* * *

The fire, it is gone, but why? It felt as if it was jerked madly away from his body. Now there is some noise, a loud garble between two sides, anger in one sound and fear in another. It sounds like a wretched duet. Then there is a loud piercing crack of noise and Hiccup forces his eyes open.

Oh god. Toothless is on the ground with a paper thin trail of scarlet on his back while Stoic is towering over him. With something in his hand.

"Toothless!"

"Don't ya come close to this demon!" Stoic bellowed. "He didn't need to do any of that to ya!"

"What are you talking about! He didn't do anything! What do you," then it hit Hiccup. "Oh God. You think he."

"You don't need to say another word ya hear?"

"Oh God, you're out of your mind! He did not do anything to me!" Hiccup ran over to the sobbing dragon who was on his knees. He tried to help the man up and Toothless wobbled up onto his feet. The older man almost lost his grip because of the blood that trailed down his arms and onto his hands.

"Don't ya help that devil!"

"Toothless," Hiccup stared right into the bloodshot beryl eyes of the dragon. "Go, now."

He did not need any other commands.

"Come back here ya monster!" But it was too late, the Dragon already disappeared into the flora. "Why did ya do that Hiccup? He," Stoic could not force the word out of his throat, "You let him escape? Why?"

"He didn't do anything!" Tears slowly bubbled up in his eyes. "Why did you do that? Why did you have to whip him?"

"Son? Now listen, he broke the law. You'll understand why. It was to be done. Son? You just got to understand, I just had to do it. He had to be punished. It's all part of the greater good. Why don't ya understand? I had to! I had to beat him! His kind deserves it! Why are you crying? Why are you crying! Don't! Stop crying! I'll whip you too if you don't stop crying! You want me to? I'll do it! Cause I can! The law lets me! Stop that cryin' right now! You hear me? You are gonna stop right now! Stop cryin! Don't you dare tear up for that devil out there! I demand you stop! Stop it right now! Why won't you stop? Stop! Stop! Stop your goddamned crying right now! I'm your father! You will obey me! You will stop!"

Now Stoic began to shake Hiccup wildly.

"Stop!" But Hiccup was able to break free and he ran into the woods as quickly as his body would let him. He could hear the sounds behind him "Stop! Stop…stop crying…Hiccup…I…Son?"

Stoic stopped yelling and fell to the Earth and, despite his commands to Hiccup, he began to cry.

* * *

It took a massive amount of strength to come back to the house, but Hiccup did it. Stoic was not home but he still felt that apprehension linger in the air like Lucifer's cologne.

He walked up to his room and began to shuffle through his belongings until he found a big envelope and a map. He waited and watched the alien flowers stand at attention, begging for his voice, his speech, his command, his proclamation.

There was a light nock at his door and without turning quickly, he responded, "Toothless?"

"Yes?"

The younger went over and hugged him, letting the fire they share fill the room. "Toothless you gotta go. Go far away from here."

Toothless had a look of confusion, "But how?"

He handed him the large envelope, "Here's two hundred dollars, it'll get you anywhere."

"But I can't take this."

"Yes, you can. I'll," the was frustration in his voice. "Look, I can't see you like this. You'll never be a free man here. Take this, buy a ticket, sail out, fly away, do what you've gotta do to get outta here."

"What if I get caught?"

"By who? The troops are gone, the people don't care here, you can leave if you've got enough money. You can escape and live a free life. A life without fear."

"But," the sound of fear vibrated in him. "I can't without knowing you're safe."

"One day, you'll come back and I'll leave with you."

"Then I'll come back as soon as I can."

"I know you will. So go. Now."

Toothless looked at the map and envelope he was handed, "I'll never forget this Hiccup Haddock. Never."

Toothless asked, "Makasimba ere?"

"Ndakasimba kana makasimba-wo."

"Ndakasimba." Toothless breathed in deeply before continuing, "I am strong because you are strong."

"I know, now go."

Toothless looked at Hiccup one more time before saying, "I will return! I promise!"

And so he left the world and Hiccup behind him.


	6. Epilouge

**How to Train Your Dragon and all characters associated do not belong to Travis Church.**

Epilogue

A radio off in the distance is turned on and words begin to pour out.

"I turn on my flashlight and in the beam I thought I saw my brother and I run over and tackle him, but it wasn't. This person, this person was one of the dragons that we received a few months ago. I looked at him and I was so mad. This wasn't my brother, this was one of them, and this dragon might've killed my brother!"

The woman on the radio seethes and her breaths become ragged.

"I hit him in the head with my flashlight and I punched him and hit him and I just started cursing him. He stole from him and he was probably the one who was eating all those meals I left out every night! He stole from a dead man! And that's when it hit me."

She slowly begins to calm down.

"My brother was dead. I started to cry and I just fell to my knees bawling, and in front of this dragon!"

The radio dial is changed to a different station.

"And then I realized something," a female voice spoke. "These people, they only make ten cents a day and those who can are the lucky ones. But the vast majority makes less than that. A hundred ten dollars, ten cents a day, that equals one thousand, one hundred twenty; that's simple arithmetic right there. But it's heartbreaking arithmetic. These people sacrificed one thousand, one hundred twenty days worth of work and put it into tables and benches. One thousand, one hundred days of back breaking labor that starts before the sun and ends after the sun has set. One thousand, one hundred days of living with mediocrity and working in pitiful conditions. One thousand, one hundred days of abuse, of taunting, of fear to just go to work."

The radio dial is changed again to another network.

"And it got real bad that one day," a man said

"So one day I told the kid that I needed to get some new sheet music from my office," a different man began. "I leave him for a sec, and I hear all this yelling. I come running back and I see this guy yellin' at him tell him to drag his 'drake ass outta here because we don't serve drake trash like him.'"

And the radio system was adjusted to the second channel.

"One day I fell down and bruised my arm while at the school and when I went home my husband threw a fit. He asked if those Dragons hurt me or touched me."

The sound of shuddering hisses through the speakers.

"I told him that I just fell down while working. It was nothing! He didn't listen, he didn't care, he couldn't. He just wanted to burn something, something of theirs. The next day, I came back to the school and everyone was just crowded around the school but there was no school. It was burned down. I didn't know what I could do, I didn't know what the kids could do, I didn't know what the parents could do."

The dial was moved to the third station.

"I told him that we can serve whoever we want," a man went.

"I told him that we don't serve trash like him," a different man said.

"And I gave the guy a nice hook to his face and threw him out," a third man said triumphantly.

"We didn't pay attention to the rantin' goin' outside after that," the second man stated.

"So I went back to the kid and he was crying," the first man told to the radio. "And it wasn't the baby crying when the blanket is missing. It was the silent crying that you have when you're at a funeral. He hung his head like a flag and the tears just fell in big drops. He didn't make a single sound. It was like summer rain in the Tropics."

The same man continued, "For the rest of the day he didn't even wanna touch a guitar. He didn't speak, didn't look at me, didn't even look like he was even with us. He just cried. And then I just hugged him and cried with him."

The channel is changed to the first station.

"I wiped away some of my tears and I thought for a moment that I saw my brother in that dragon's face. He looked a lot like him, except for those eyes and that hair of course."

The dial is spun again.

"I told them that I'd be back and I'll keep on teaching them, school or no school. But that man who just looked at the table came up to me and asked, 'how can you teach without a table, a chair, or a school?' And I said, 'a schoolroom is just a room with the word school in it. You don't need a schoolroom to have a teacher. You need a teacher to learn. You have a teacher and I'm not leaving.' I told them I'd be back the next day and there'd still be class. But I went back home and kicked my husband out, told him if I ever saw him again I'll report him, and I called up a divorce lawyer."

The little knob is rotated gently.

"He was so scared, so afraid, so fragile; it was like looking at a child and ever since I've been leaving meals by our tree I've been protecting him. I felt a sense of pride, that I was protecting someone if only to redeem the fact that I couldn't have protected my brother. It was like a second chance for me."

Then the radio is changed.

"When he played, he glowed and even smiled. He was a different person when he touched a guitar because— because when you play music you're not an aristocrat or a Dragon; no, when you play music you're a musician. He was a Dragon but that doesn't change anything. He didn't look like a Dragon to me from day one. He looked like a musician."

The channel is moved to another station.

"I never left because I love teaching and these kids love me teaching and their parents love their kids."

The stations are changed again.

"He can choose whatever goddamn guitar he wants because he can. He's got the talent, the skill, the want to have it. And you know what? He deserves it, after the hell he's been livin'."

The radio is adjusted to one last network.

"My brother said that there are no enemies in peace, there are only victims. Leaving food for that dragon, it's what he would have done because he would have seen a person in need."

The sound of the radio clicks off and the speech ends. A kind warm breeze picks up over the land creating waves among the amber grains.

A young man takes in a deep sigh at all of the information. So much change, so much done, and although a bit too late in his own opinion, future generations would think back and appreciate what has finally happened.

But he could not help but smile at what he was part of. A little cabin in the countryside, a little chunk of land he called home, and a little life that he sacrificed for.

"Hiccup!" A tanned man carrying two cups of lemonade waltzes over to him.

He takes one of the glasses and says, "Thanks Toothless."

He smiles and asks, "Hey Hiccup? Thanks. For everything."

"No! I should be thanking you! I mean look at all of this!" Hiccup waves manically to the land. "You got me out and brought me here. I owe you one, for life."

"No," Toothless sets down his glass. "You gave me something to get the land, the house, the farm, everything I own. You gave me hope for freedom. I owe you for that. But this," he gestured to the Earth, "This means nothing without you here knowing that I am free because of you."

A light pause, "Thank you Toothless. I love you man."

"Just don't marry me," he threw a light punch to Hiccup.

"No, course not. I mean, I love you like a brother."

"Well then brother," he raises his glass, "To us."

They clink their glasses together and laugh.

They both sat observing this land, this land of the free and home of the brave. The land that they call home.

**

* * *

**

AN: Well everyone, that's all for the main plot! The last thing for you all to read are the radio conversations. Those lines were originally part of an interview series that I created just for this piece. So at some point I'll submit it for your viewing pleasures!

**I want to first thank A Frumious Bandersnatch and Spyden for being my betas so early on. These two have infinite amounts of wisdom and a keen eye for detail that I seem to lack nowadays. Without their help, this piece would be a lot clunkier and uglier. I also want to thank the HTTYD Big Bang Community for giving me this oppertunity to work as a whole with other authors and artists. I want to also thank MWA220, TolkienNerd4832, ShootMe002, Victoria62015, Loti-miko, and Muffled Chimes for leaving awesome reviews!**

**And to the artist who unfortuntately picked out this piece of crazy to draw/paint/underwater-basketweave: I thank you for your hard work and hopefully one day I'll find it.**

**Travis Church**


	7. Broadcast One

**OFFICAL TELEVISED TRANSCRIPT:**

Good evening from Broadcast Information and Entertainment. These following conversations are made upon the subject of the Dragons d'Alacala and their indefinite servitude from the view point of ordinary citizens. Our objective is simple: to shine light upon the public and how they view this certain matter of public policy. All of these interviews are age appropriate so children are not discouraged from listening. With the magic of television, we are able to deliever and preserve this moment of history for future generations.

We hope you will be listening with open ears and open minds.

* * *

**TRANSCRIPT TO BE READ:**

Good evening, my name is Ezekiel Finch from Broadcast Information and Entertainment. I had the oppertunity to interview three men who started a music business and met a young dragon early on. On behalf of BIE, I hope you shall be listening with open ears and open minds.

* * *

**START TAPE:**

"Yeah I've met one before. I think it was that showcase at the guitar shop, the one on Madison and Ninth Street."

"Braddigan, it was Madison and Tenth."

"Thanks man. So anyway we were having this big opening and everyone who could hold a guitar was there. I saw this kid was lookin' real long and hard at this guitar, nothin' special, I mean I just finished my music history stuff in college and I'd know if a guitar was special or not. I asked him if he'd want to play and God! His face looked as if I was Jesus Christ back from the dead! So I took it down and gave it to him. He trembled with it in his hands, as if he was afraid that it would turn to dust. I told him that it's okay if he wanted to play it. And what happened next? He played music and what came out of that thing was beautiful!"

"A real work of art from that kid."

"Thanks Chetro."

"No prob Braddigan."

"So I just watched him play and I tried to stop being so awestruck but then I watched his fingers and it was poetry in motion! It's like the kid learned classical technique from birth! The tips of his fingers just barely touched the strings but the guitar just sang."

"Like how a person can be little but have a big voice."

"Took me years to figure out how to play like that! All the books, all the lessons, all the practice; and this kid played like he was some professor from Ithaca in the States and he was, like what, sixteen?"

"That's what he'd say."

"Thanks Repete. So when he was done, everyone just cheered and clapped for the kid, and it was like he was embarrassed to be in the shop. He tried to bolt out the door but I asked him if he wanted lessons."

"He said he didn't have money for lessons."

"I told him it'd be on the house, no cost."

"Kid said that he didn't wanna be a burden to Braddigan or somethin' or other."

"Then I told him that it be an honor to teach someone with that much talent and skill. He just brightened up when I said that. Like his eyes, they looked so bleak and then they just shone that one moment. So we agreed to have lessons every Tuesday at six. The first lesson, I looked into the practice room and he was just staring at himself and lookin' real nervous. I went into the practice room for the first time and something stank really bad."

"Like rotten fruit and sweat."

"I think he smelled it."

"Thanks guys. I never told him anything but I could tell that he was uncomfortable. He tried to leave on the first day but I suggested that we go have lessons in the showcase room, where we do all the sales and stuff. He felt better after that and I couldn't smell anything after that. He never got any better, I don't see how he could, but his taste in music got better. He started to pickup folk, jazz, even classical!"

"Uhggh."

"Hey Chetro, even classical sounded good when played by that kid."

"True."

"People would get confused why this kid in dirty shorts and a ripped shirt would just grab a guitar off a wall and plop himself on the stool." He pointed to a corner of the room we were in and looked at a wooden stool with a music stand next to it.

"They'd even threaten to throw a punch if he didn't beat it."

"But I would come into the room and take a seat right next to him and they would back off."

"Usually they'd just open their mouths like a fish."

"I never understood why people got so irritated by that kid, but then some customer told me I didn't have to serve Dragons here. I didn't know what he meant but it hit me. The smell, the clothes, the money, the eyes, the embarrassment. He was one of them. But it didn't matter to me."

"But it got real bad that one day."

"So one day I told the kid that I needed to get some new sheet music from my office, I leave him for a sec, and I hear all this yelling. I come running back and I see this guy yellin' at him tell him to drag his 'drake ass outta here because we don't serve drake trash like him.'"

"I told him that we can serve whoever we want."

"I told him that we don't serve trash like him"

"And I gave the guy a nice hook to his face and threw him out."

"We didn't pay attention to the rantin' goin' outside after that."

"So I went back to the kid and he was crying. But it wasn't the baby crying when the blanket is missing. It was the silent crying that you have when you're at a funeral. He hung his head like a flag and the tears just fell in big drops. He didn't make a single sound. It was like summer rain in the Tropics."

Braddigan paused as he looked longingly at a painting of a beach.

"For the rest of the day he didn't even wanna touch a guitar. He didn't speak, didn't look at me, didn't even look like he was even with us. He just cried. And then I just hugged him and cried with him."

Braddigan sighed before continuing, "When he played, he glowed and even smiled. He was a different person when he touched a guitar because— because when you play music you're not an aristocrat or a Dragon; no, when you play music you're a musician. He was a Dragon but that doesn't change anything. He didn't look like a Dragon to me from day one. He looked like a musician. He can choose whatever goddamn guitar he wants because he can. He's got the talent, the skill, the want to have it. And you know what? He deserves it, after the hell he's been livin'."

The bell hanging on the doorframe jingles cheerily and the three all turn to face the door.

"Hey! What's up man!"

A boy wearing a dark green shirt and khaki shorts gave a sheepish smile and goes up to the three interviewees.

"Hey Elias! Go ahead take your pick, I'll be with you in a sec."

The boy smiles eagerly and dashes off to a wall of guitars. He chooses a dark brown acoustic, as dark as his eyes.


	8. Broadcast Two

**OFFICAL TELEVISED TRANSCRIPT:**

Good evening from Broadcast Information and Entertainment. These following conversations are made upon the subject of the Dragons d'Alacala and their indefinite servitude from the view point of ordinary citizens. Our objective is simple: to shine light upon the public and how they view this certain matter of public policy. All of these interviews are age appropriate so children are not discouraged from listening. With the magic of television, we are able to deliever and preserve this moment of history for future generations.

We hope you will be listening with open ears and open minds.

* * *

**TRANSCRIPT TO BE READ:**

Good evening, my name is Ezekiel Finch from Broadcast Information and Entertainment. I had the oppertunity to interview a schoolteacher who taught young dragons. On behalf of BIE, I hope you shall be listening with open ears and open minds.

* * *

**START TAPE:**

"I volunteered to be part of the ERP, Educational Reformation Program, but everyone and their grandmothers jumped in to stop me. They said I'd get nowhere with those kids, that it was a waste of shoes to walk over there, and that my life would be endangered if I was in a room with the savage children. Ridiculous. You know what? They said it was no place for a woman to be in the working room and drive a car, and look! I'm a woman who drives to work every day. Nifty ain't it!"

She laughs.

"So before I could start workin' for the ERP I needed to get my identification card, my government services card, and all this bureaucratic nonsense. I sat through the ramblin' and the spiels and the interviews, and you know why? Cause I just wanna teach. So I finally got the teacher's materials, the teacher's textbook, and a wad of cash to get supplies and it really was a wad of cash. They handed me an envelope with all these bills and they didn't say how much money was in there."

She frowns at some specter in the distance.

"I was at home after that trying to make the lesson plan for the next month. I wanted to make the first day as eventful and easy as possible for these kids. Everyone says that these kids aren't that bright or eager to learn so I decided to take it slow for them. But then I get a call at what must've been nine at night from the ERP telling me where the schoolhouse was. I already knew so I thanked them but they also asked if I needed an escort. 'An escort, a police escort,' they said and I told them no thank you. Why on earth would I need an escort for teaching?"

She frowns at the specter again.

"I knew that the school was in the Dragon slum but I knew I didn't need an escort. From the first day, I knew that I would go to the local slum to work but that never bothered me. No sir. It's not like the slum here is a huge district; it's not that big in my opinion. The first day, I drove for an hour trying to find a way into the slums and when I did, oh golly. All these people just started to clear the road and I thought, 'how polite,' but then I realized that they were running into their houses. And then I realized that I wasn't driving on a road. I was driving on a very large dirt pathway."

The frown disappears.

"The schoolhouse was just like the rest of the slum I was in: dusty, single floor, and tiny windows. I got out of my car and I was like in a ghost town or something. Eerie. But I walked into the school and something caught my eye. Against the ugly hanging lights, the tiny windows, the dust in the air, and the sooty floors, there were these tables and benches. They were polished and well cut and looked right out of a department store. Against the grey concrete walls, these tables and benches shone like amber gems. One by one these kids filtered into the single classroom and they looked exactly like the Dragons, only smaller. And at first they were scared but I think they felt safer as the day went by."

She sighs contently.

"They learn quickly you know? Kids are sponges when they're learning. They just soak it all in. They just kept on passing and they slowly felt more and more comfortable in class. One night I did a parent teacher night, because that's what all good school teachers do, and the parents were more uncomfortable than the kids! I mean the kids should be worried about what they have in the class but these parents were just petrified! They didn't even look at the little desserts I set out. They just stood there. Then I started talking to the parents and they tried to look away from me. I started to talk about their children and how well they're doing in class and immediately they just brightened up! I said that they were really getting the work and they're passing all their tests. They'd always ask if their child could pass the end of the year exam that the ERP hands out; I told every one of them that their child would pass with flying colors. They were ecstatic! They hugged their kids, they hugged me, and some even cried."

She smiles.

"But there was this one man who was just looking at the tables. I asked him if he was okay but he said something I'll never forget. 'These cost us one hundred ten dollars and twenty two cents. One hundred ten dollars and twenty two cents well spent.' And then I realized something. These people, they only make ten cents a day and those who can are the lucky ones. But the vast majority makes less than that. A hundred ten dollars, ten cents a day, that equals one thousand, one hundred twenty; that's simple arithmetic right there. But it's heartbreaking arithmetic. These people sacrificed one thousand, one hundred twenty days worth of work and put it into tables and benches. One thousand, one hundred days of back breaking labor that starts before the sun and ends after the sun has set. One thousand, one hundred days of living with mediocrity and working in pitiful conditions. One thousand, one hundred days of abuse, of taunting, of fear to just go to work. They have such high hopes for these kids and it shows."

The smile fades away.

"One day I fell down and bruised my arm while at the school and when I went home my husband threw a fit. He asked if those Dragons hurt me or touched me."

She shudders.

"I told him that I just fell down while working. It was nothing! He didn't listen, he didn't care, he couldn't. He just wanted to burn something, something of theirs. The next day, I came back to the school and everyone was just crowded around the school but there was no school. It was burned down. I didn't know what I could do, I didn't know what the kids could do, I didn't know what the parents could do."

She looks at the specter.

"I told them that I'd be back and I'll keep on teaching them, school or no school. But that man who just looked at the table came up to me and asked, 'how can you teach without a table, a chair, or a school?' And I said, 'a schoolroom is just a room with the word school in it. You don't need a schoolroom to have a teacher. You need a teacher to learn. You have a teacher and I'm not leaving.' I told them I'd be back the next day and there'd still be class. But I went back home and kicked my husband out, told him if I ever saw him again I'll report him, and I called up a divorce lawyer."

She strokes her ring-less finger.

"I never left because I love teaching and these kids love me teaching and their parents love their kids."

We stop in the middle of the local Dragons slum.

"Thank you for the ride."

She exits the car and is greeted by a gathering of kids and walks over to an apple tree. The words, "Class has begun," wafers through the air as a bell rings to call the children who run to her in excitement. They sit down underneath the shade of the apple tree and once as she has captured the eyes of all the children, she begins to read.


	9. Broadcast Three

**OFFICAL TELEVISED TRANSCRIPT:**

Good evening from Broadcast Information and Entertainment. These following conversations are made upon the subject of the Dragons d'Alacala and their indefinite servitude from the view point of ordinary citizens. Our objective is simple: to shine light upon the public and how they view this certain matter of public policy. All of these interviews are age appropriate so children are not discouraged from listening. With the magic of television, we are able to deliever and preserve this moment of history for future generations.

We hope you will be listening with open ears and open minds.

* * *

**TRANSCRIPT TO BE READ:**

Good evening, my name is Ezekiel Finch from Broadcast Information and Entertainment. I had the oppertunity to interview a young girl who never saw blood drawn during the Great War but still felt the full effects afterwards. On behalf of BIE, I hope you shall be listening with open ears and open minds.

* * *

**START TAPE:**

"My brother died after the war when I was still in high school and you know it hit hard. Real hard. Everyone cried but I don't know why I didn't. It was…It made me confused. He and I were connected and that connection was gone. Like it evaporated."

She smoothens out the wrinkles in the table cloth.

"We fought over everything." She chuckles, "Seats by the window, radio stations, the bathroom, but the thing we fought over the most was food. Cake at birthday parties, mum's meatballs, sugar, if it was cooked we would divide it up into 'fair' portions and be happy with what we got."

She smiles.

"But he died and mum still shopped like there were two of us, force of habit I guess, and I would divide the food on my plate and leave one half for my brother while I ate the other half."

She smoothens out the cloth again.

"And after dinner every night, I would take my brother's half to our secret spot in the nearby woods and leave it there. And every morning I would return to find that my brother's meal was gone."

She smiles even more.

"I thought the neighborhood dog ate the stuff, but I just couldn't come to it. I thought my brother was there, acknowledging that he was still with me. That he never left. That he never left me."

The smile fades.

"Over time my half got smaller and smaller and his half got bigger and bigger. The food would still disappear and during the summertime, I would stay out all night hoping that he would fade into existence and take a bite from the food. I was so tired then, but I had to wait for him, I just had to."

She sighs.

"I got so thin, spidery almost and you know I thought that was a blessing because men love thinner women now-a-days. But I felt like eating his half was like saying to him, 'I'm taking your food and there's nothing you can do about it because you're dead.' I couldn't do that! You understand right?"

She sees a nod and then relaxes into her seat.

"But one night in June I was waiting far away from our tree, because I thought that I might be scaring his spirit, I saw something human go to the plate of food. It picked it up and started eating. I was ecstatic! Maybe it was my brother! It just had to be right? No one knows about our tree, only my brother and I."

The words fade away.

"I turn on my flashlight and in the beam I thought I saw my brother and I run over and tackle him, but it wasn't. This person, this person was one of the dragons that we received a few months ago. I looked at him and I was so mad. This wasn't my brother, this was one of them, and this dragon might've killed my brother!"

She seethes and her breaths become ragged.

"I hit him in the head with my flashlight and I punched him and hit him and I just started cursing him. That was for my brother! He stole from him and he was probably the one who was eating all those meals I left out every night! He stole from a dead man! And that's when it hit me."

She slowly begins to calm down.

"My brother was dead. I started to cry and I just fell to my knees bawling, and in front of this dragon! I wiped away some of my tears and I thought for a moment that I saw my brother in that dragon's face. He looked a lot like him, except for those eyes and that hair of course."

Now calm, she begins, "I asked how he found this place and he said that he just followed his instincts. He told me that he's been hiding for the past two months in these woods and everyday his meal was my offering. He, he sounded so close to my brother and he looked so alike. It couldn't be that my brother was reincarnated into a prisoner of war; it just didn't make any sense."

She looks out the window.

"He told me about his life during the war, what he used to do before the war, and anything else he could think of to buy time. They shared that same demeanor, that charisma, that energy; they shared it and I felt as if I was connected to him."

"I asked him what his name was and he said that he forgot a long time ago. I asked if he would like to choose his own name but he didn't come up with one at the time. He was so scared, so afraid, so fragile; it was like looking at a child and ever since I've been leaving meals by our tree I've been protecting him. I felt a sense of pride, that I was protecting someone if only to redeem the fact that I couldn't have protected my brother. It was like a second chance for me. I left food out by our tree for my brother and a dragon has been taking it. I don't care, I'm actually kind of glad that he takes it now."

She flattens the table cloth again.

"My brother said that there are no enemies in peace, there are only victims. Leaving food for that dragon, it's what he would have done because he would have seen a person in need."

She looks out the window and into the woods.

"That dragon was not my brother, but I think he was a sign from him.

I ask what her brother's name was so readers may know.

"My brother was named Tom, and when that dragon left he said that I can call him Tom."


	10. Broadcast Four

**OFFICAL TELEVISED TRANSCRIPT:**

Good evening from Broadcast Information and Entertainment. These following conversations are made upon the subject of the Dragons d'Alacala and their indefinite servitude from the view point of ordinary citizens. Our objective is simple: to shine light upon the public and how they view this certain matter of public policy. All of these interviews are age appropriate so children are not discouraged from listening. With the magic of television, we are able to deliever and preserve this moment of history for future generations.

We hope you will be listening with open ears and open minds.

* * *

**TRANSCRIPT TO BE READ:**

Good evening, my name is Ezekiel Finch from Broadcast Information and Entertainment. I had the great oppertunity to sit down with Govenor Terrence of this state during the last few legs of his campaign tour for re-election. I inteviewed him on his party positions, his goals, and his hopes upon this upcoming election. On behalf of BIE, I hope you shall be listening with open ears and open minds.

* * *

**START TAPE:**

"Hello Mr. Finch."

"Hello Govenor Terrence."

"It's good to be with you on this fine afternoon."

"It sure is, only a few weeks till election day!"

"Yes sir. What can you tell me about the educational reforms and what your party intends to do for education?"

"Well I can say this, seventy percent of all youth under twelve years are in school right now and we plan on extending that percentage. I plan on building new schools in more rural areas to catch the last thirty percent and give them a good deserving education."

"That's fantastic what about teachers?"

"Well, our curriculum does not call for any specialized subjects."

"But sir, looking at this teacher's application in box twelve; you ask if an applicant has received 'specialized instruction in psychiatric arts.' Is there a reason for that?"

"Uhh,"

"And according to research, those who have this 'special instruction' have been hired directly as high-paid educational reformers."

"Well, as the word changes our curriculum has to change. And every grade and standard has a specific emotional and intellectual effect on the student's development. We must carefully monitor those effects and either intensify them or remove them."

"What exactly are those effects?"

"I'm no expert but I can say that some of the simplest ones are 'the student's outlook on life' and 'enjoyment of school.'"

"So what would you say the eighty-seven percent fail for the Dragons d'Alacala rate reflects?"

"I cannot say."

"Mr. Govenor, can you tell me about the party's position on social integration?"

"Yes! I'm glad you've asked! The party believes that all people should be active in modern society. After the Great War, refugees poured into our cities and quickly formed camps on the fringes of the city. Our position is to promote maximum refugee interaction with local government and communities."

"So why are most Dragons not allowed to vote until they have lived in the state for twenty years?"

"Well it's only fair."

"And that they pass a literacy test?"

"If people are unable to read, how can they be educated voters?"

"But the literacy test in Latin and Greek."

"I cannot stress the importance of the classics."

"What person is educated in Latin and Greek?"

"Well…"

"Moving on, how is this social integration plan affecting the economic sector?"

"Industry is up thirty percent in job growth and trade is up fifteen percent."

"What about white collar and government jobs?"

"Well there hasn't been much of a growth in those sectors."

"Back to the industry statistic, what jobs have experienced that thirty percent growth?"

"Mining, logging, assembly line manufacturing, farming…"

"So labor intense and low skill jobs?"

"Well I wouldn't say educationally lacking per say."

"But these are still labor intense and low skill jobs correct?"

"Yes."

"Have there been stronger lobby efforts for higher minimum wages?"

"I am not sure."

"Even though that specific lobby group has called for the legislative floor every week, raised questions at press conferences, and threatened to use their influence on labor unions against you in the upcoming election?"

"…Power is such a subjective thing to quantify don't you agree?"

"I assume so. Mr. Govenor, why are crime rates so low?"

"Well Mr. Finch; we can credit our neighborhood watch groups for such a fine job, youth curfews, a strong educational system which would provide young ones a life away from crime, and a strong police force monitoring the Dragon camps."

"But there has not been a patrol unit in two months."

"The Civic Defense Secretary and I have decided that the Dragons are not malignant to a degree where they must not be monitored at all times."

"So you concede that you these people do not need or require policing?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe the reason for this is that they fear the law or that they are not a threat at all?"

Silence from Govenor Terrence.

"Govenor, have you heard about the rebellions in the adjacent state?"

"Yes, citizens in the street rioting against the government."

"Are you going to send troops to support the state government?"

"Yes, all troops are going to move to suppress the rebellion. While some states are weary to fight this grass roots campaign against indentured servitude, I am not going to stand by and watch a mob tear a state apart. Every man, gun, and car that the state military owns will be sent to suppress this rioting."

"When will we see this decision take action?"

"In a few days Mister Finch."

"Thank you Govenor. Well that concludes the interview. From everyone at Broadcast Information and Entertainment, good night."

**END TAPE:**

**

* * *

**

**UNRELEASED TAPE EXCERPT:**

"Mister Finch," Govenor Terrence leaned in close, "If you think you're going to make a fool of the party you're dead wrong. The people are too stupid and too angry to care about the 'educational welfare' or the 'economic livelihood' of those Dragons. They just want payback."

"Excuse me?"

"Revenge. People don't vote based on educated choices anymore."

"You mean the educated choices of the political machine?"

"You say it's an orange, I say it's a tangerine, does it matter when we are talking about the same thing?"

"So how do people vote now?"

"They only care about what they've been getting lately. And lately, they want some blood."

"The people are inherently selfish."

"See Mister Finch, we're speaking the same language."

"Even if that is true, what makes you believe that you can stop this movement? Let alone this report?"

"Expect a call from the National Communications Board."

"They can't stop me from reporting."

"But they can put a little pressure on your station who just might suspend you until my election is over," he taps his chin in thought, "or I could just blacklist you. Try getting your 'story' out then."

"A storm is coming Govenor."

"Good thing I shut the doors and windows."

Govenor Terrence leaves.


	11. Broadcast Five and Final Words

**OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT:**

Good evening from American News Systems, in a surprising turn of events. The United States Congress voted to not recognize the European International Extradition Treaty. Billy Malleich was sent to interview Chairman Dawson on this decision

**BEGIN TAPE:**

"Today the United States announced that they shall not recognize any international extradition treaties. After a brief eight hours of discussion on the topic of extradition, the House of Representatives and Senate voted unanimously to not recognize the extradition treaties brought before them. And we here at ANS are lucky enough to discuss the results with none other than the Senate Chairman Adam Dawson. Chairman Dawson, what is the main reason for this decision?"

"Thank you and it is an honor to be speaking to the American People tonight. After much consideration, we have realized that the United States has had a rough relationship with many European nations. Europe has been relatively unwelcoming to the presence of American business ventures, the creation of military and naval bases, even to our ambassadors who have only the highest regards for their people and government. So when we were presented with the European Extradition Treaty, there was little interest in cooperation with those nations which were uninterested in cooperation. The treaty would only cause stress to an already stressed judicial and legal system. The American people do not require the assistance of Europe to know that a criminal needs their due punishment. It is in the people's best interest that we reject the treaty and proceed with our policy agenda."

"Chairman Dawson, is this decision merely an effort to garner support from the newly growing 'social welfare' and 'human rights' support groups?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that was the main reason why we chose to not recognize the extradition treaty. There was a more, if I may say personally, convincing reason other than lobbyists and grass roots groups."

"Would you care to say Chairman?"

"I'm not sure if I can."

"Thank you Chairman Dawson and from everyone here at ANS I say good night America."

**END TAPE:

* * *

**

**OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT:**

Welcome to the Official American Congressional Recordings and Transcriptions. We have the pleasure of releasing the May 7th speech held before the Senate. This historic speech is credited to the unanimous decision to not recognize the European Extradition Treaty.

**BEGIN TAPE:**

"Chairman Dawson, Vice President Tellsing, and my fellow Senators, I thank you for letting a little Senator from Minnesota into the floor of today's debate on the topic of extradition.

First, let me say that the nation that had quickly proposed this treaty is the one that had so quickly become a major infection on our international power. The nation in question closed shipping lines while our ships were in transit, refuse to return American Dollars which is property of the American Government, rarely allow American flights or ships into their harbors by their definition of 'a legitimate purpose,' has been found eavesdropping on letters and communications to our embassy, and refuses to allow our troops access to the forest area which is where a previous American base was last located.

Gentlemen, this nation is a prime example of defiance to the United States abroad. It is a wonder that we have not cut ties immediately!

But, there is a greater reason behind this rejection.

Gentlemen, are you aware of slavery? The very abomination of society that our grandfathers and fathers have died for? The vile mark of ignorance and uncivilized societies? The primal and base concept that leaves us hollow and soulless?

Gentlemen, this very act exists in the country that dared have the bravado to petition the United States of America, a land of freedom for all if I may remind you, for an extradition treaty?

How can they ask for justice when they are unjust? How can they ask for unity if they are segregating their own people? How can they ask for civility when they are being savage slave owners?

I ask that you do not see their 'predicament' and their current 'losses' as the rationale for indefinite servitude! When buildings are demolished we make new ones in its place, we do not force others to build them for us while we wallow in our sadness! When our men are dead we celebrate their triumphs and mourn their absence, we do not replace them with captive workers! When our supplies are gone, our surplus empty, and our treasury penny-less we scale backwards to conserve, we do not dine on what little we have while a lesser man, woman, or child look onto our plates longingly!

We are Americans! We are civilized! And most importantly, we are not weak!

Whatever justification that nation can provide does not offset the moral, human rights, and legal crimes that they are committing every day!

They have defied our rule and it is time that they feel the consequences.

If there is justice to be had, let our strong, civil, American courts deal with the criminals.

The pocketbook does not belong in the hands of the gambler, and in that same way the punishment does not belong in the hands of the criminal!

Let us have what they ought not have!

It is with that I ask you, Chairman Dawson, Vice President Tellsing, and my fellow Senators to reject this proposed treaty for justice, for equality, and for peace!

God bless America!"

Thunderous applause is heard.

**END TAPE:

* * *

**

** OFFICAL TRANSCRIPT:**

Good evening from Telecommunications Radio and Print. I do hope you listeners are all having a wonderful evening with your families, loved ones, or even alone. Scheduled tonight on TRP is the international news report from Diane Leer who is currently at a US Army Base.

** BEGIN TAPE:**

"Hello, my name is Diane Leer from TRP. Right now I am witnessing a surprising event take place. Hundreds of citizens are being loaded into US Army carrier ships where they are leaving their home country for the US. It is shocking because the US Army is actually ferrying and transporting these citizens from outskirt villages and cities and into the base. Many, I am told are first being transported to the US Embassy, which is strategically placed near the sea, and then taken on small trawlers which then rendezvous with the Army transports. But the vast majority of these people are all being brought to the base where they are loaded on and sent out. Although the local police force and militia are attempting to prevent such transports, there is nothing truly being done to prevent these events from occurring. Legally, if bloodshed were to occur on the Embassy or Army base, then the United States and her allies are allowed to declare war. Currently, this nation is unprepared for such a conflict as it has recently exited war and is still suffering the effects of war. The economy, industry, and people are simply not ready to pick up arms yet again.

I have with me a young man who has agreed to speak of this. What is your name?"

"Uhh, I'm not really…"

"Do you have a nickname? Just something that the people back home can think of."

"Hiccup."

"Alright Hiccup, where are you going?"

"I really don't know, I'm just trying to get out of here."

"Why?"

"I have someone waiting for me on the other side and I'm just really sick of being here surrounded by all of this…this negative…stuff. I don't know how to describe it."

"Do you think that the government will change its stance on indentured servitude?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"The government can't see the human face, all they see are scales and teeth and blood but no cuts, bruises, or broken hearts."

"Do you ever think it will change?"

"I think the people see what's going on so I think they will demand change or make change."

"Thank you Hiccup for your interesting views. I hope you do make it to America without too wet! Again, I'm Diane Leer and from everyone at TRP I hope you all have a good night."

**END TAPE:

* * *

**

**OFFICAL TRANSCRIPT:**

This is Pennsylvania Radio Station you've tuned to. The time is ten-thirty right on the dot and the PRS news is right around the corner.

**BEGIN TAPE:**

Good morning folks, I'm Christopher Nelheim from the Pennsylvania Radio Station. Strange things happened these few days. First the US rejects an international extradition treaty, then civilians from another country start filling US Army transports, and now those same civilians are filling our streets!

A little back story, the nation in question has recently waged war and has imposed indentured servitude on the losers. Many reformists say that this practice is incredibly unnecessary and only makes the post-war situation worse.

Because of the extradition treaty, or lack of a treaty, the US is not obligated to return these people to their homeland. And to add insult to injury, the US is offering asylum to these new people. Although some are very opposed to such an idea, a vast majority of Americans sympathize with these people and are willing to offer their support in these terrible times.

I've talked to a few of these people who call themselves "Dragons" and I have a few memorable remarks.

Bartholomew "Blaze" said, "I'm glad I'm free but now I'm scared of being free." Well Blaze, Pennsylvania will be very kind to you. The hotels have opened their doors and the government is offering jobs as we speak.

Sylvia "Storm" said, "I have a baby, I just don't want to have my baby be born into debt that just grows while she grows." Don't worry, our doctors are very kind and we cannot wait to see your newborn citizen.

And finally Travis "Toothless" said, "I know my brother is coming, I want him to see everything that I dreamt of." Lucky you Toothless, Pennsylvania and neighboring West Virginia have farmland for sale and rather cheap if you ask me! Just go to your nearest federal building and ask for a land grant!

I really hope that you've are just as inspired as I am right now. We're going to take a quick break before we go on to the next program. From everyone here at PRS, I hope you have a great day."

**END TAPE:

* * *

**

** OFFICAL DOCUMENT ISSUED BY PENNSYLVANIA STATE GOVERNMENT:**

"I Travis 'Toothless' Drake do declare that I own the following piece of land indicated in the address line that shall be used for agricultural purposes. The following piece of land indicated in the address line has been surveyed, priced, and defined appropriately and has been deemed the appropriate worth indicated in the transaction forms. I have established that I am indeed a United States Citizen who shall follow the rules, regulations, laws, and decrees of the national government and state government. I have established that I am indeed capable of paying this transaction with or without financial aid, if needs be. I have established that I am a person of good character who will follow this contract to the letter.

Signed: Toothless"

**END DOCUMENT:

* * *

**

"Ready?" Hiccup got up from the constraining bench that was sitting outside the office. The US federal building was much different than the central government buildings back home.

"Yeah," Toothless lead him outside into the bright daylight where the sun was brighter than ever. The future, no longer dark, lay before them winding forwards and backwards like a road indecisive.

Hiccup plucked a tiny daisy that grew out in the lawn of the building and smelled it. It was a foreign smell, an unknown and unfamiliar scent that was closer than he ever imagined. He put it into Toothless's hair, the yellow shining brightly as the hope that burned so adamantly while in his own personal exile from his brother.

When did that word seem so…perfect? Was it in the months that they were separated or the moments when he realized that he was a foreigner or perhaps the second he found him standing outside the security gate of a US base in Pennsylvania?

Everything is perfect now. They both smiled in content that everything came to an end.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for your support, your interest, and the very act of reading my stuff! I'm glad that you've all really enjoyed this and I hope that this ties up the loose ends and leaves the the holes for you to be a part of the universe that I have created for you. This is my baby and my baby's all grown up and gone to college (tears up)! Thank you again for reading and giving this the read it deserves.**

**Travis Church**


End file.
